


can't we stop hurting each other?

by weepies



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Poetic, maybe kinda poetry?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:24:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: Is it possible that the one you love can also be the one that causes you the most pain?Richie wonders this for days, for weeks, until he finally realizes that Yes, it is so terribly possible.





	can't we stop hurting each other?

 

 

 

Sometimes it is the little things that count the most.

The eager eyes and wandering hands. The sliver of desperation exchanged when one of them stands up, bidding goodbye, leaving the other behind, feeling like half of a whole. It is the wanting glances, the borrowed sweaters, the shared shampoo, the same honeydew scented skin. It is never knowing and always wondering.

It is Eddie resting a soothing hand on Richie’s bouncing knee while they are sitting side-by-side in a diner booth, surrounded by their bubbly friends and a friendly waitress. It is Richie’s fingers finding Eddie’s underneath the table, and Eddie allowing him to hold on for just a moment before moving away. _Not here_ his sideways glance says to Richie. Part of Richie longs to fight back, to take Eddie’s hand again, to feel his velvety skin and dare to press a sweet tongued kiss to the skin of his palm, to say _Then where?_

But Richie doesn’t. He lets Eddie pull away, lets him turn to the waitress and place his order. Richie lets it go, like he always does, but like he never wants to.

Things are different when they are alone, hidden in the warmth of Eddie’s bedroom, underneath his silky blue covers. There are a few stains here and there, ones of which would make Eddie blush, so Richie has learned not to point them out. When they are cuddled under nighttime sheets, hands intertwined, legs tangled, Richie feels as though heaven is a real place, because he is there. With Eddie, everything feels like heaven. Sighing, Richie presses a kiss to Eddie’s right cheek, then his left, and ignores the way Eddie trembles with a slight giggle.

“How long do we have to keep this a secret?” Richie asks, because it has been a year already, the two of them having started dating in junior year of high school, and Richie has never been good at keeping secrets. They are seniors now, both eighteen. Their relationship is serious; this they both know. They will go to college together, move in together, graduate together, grow old together… do everything together.

At Eddie’s lack of reply, Richie’s heart grows heavy. In this society, neither of them dare to love too loudly. They must be discreet in their means of loving. That is why, when they are outside, they stick to unsuspicious brushes of shoulders and occasional eye contact. It is safer this way. Eddie feels safer this way. And Richie feels… well, if Eddie is pleased with this, then Richie is pleased, too.

“Our friends won’t care,” Richie says to him. But Eddie seems to shrink back, distancing himself and Richie, and for some reason, he has never seemed so far. “Okay. It’s okay,” Richie says, because he is desperate to have Eddie close again, to nudge their noses together and flutter his eyelashes on the softness of Eddie’s face. “We don’t need to tell them. We can do whatever you want.” Because though their love is only in secrecy, having Eddie in private is better than not having him at all.

Another year passes. Richie feels like college will be different. Maybe in LA they can live freely. They aren’t in Derry, Maine anymore. So Richie prays college will be different. He wants it to be with every fiber of his being.

But it’s not. They share a room, though, so perhaps Richie is overthinking it, because they do get to kiss, and cuddle, and be open with each other behind at least _one_ closed door.

It’s fine. Isn’t it? Richie still gets Eddie’s touch once a day, more than enough kisses, and smiles, and laughs. But his chest aches when he sees Eddie during class, or lunch, and his skin trembles when he has to remember not to touch, or else Eddie will get mad, and anxious, and he’ll rush to the bathroom to make sure nobody suspects anything. And Richie can’t follow him there, can’t make sure he’s okay, because Eddie will get upset with him, will spit _Why did you follow me? People are gonna know that I’m—that we’re—you **can’t do that, Richie.**_

And Richie will back down, so incredibly small, so unlike himself.

Is it possible that the one you love can also be the one that causes you the most pain?

Richie wonders this for days, for weeks, until he finally realizes that _Yes, it is so terribly possible._

He knows because one night when Eddie is holding him, peppering kisses to his hair, humming a sickly sweet song, one Richie loves, adores, and Richie, trembling, asks, “What if I don’t want this to be a secret anymore?”

And Eddie’s fingers freeze as they are threading through Richie’s curls. He says, “What?”

“What if I don’t want you to be a secret?” Richie asks, pulling his head out from Eddie’s chest. He swallows thickly, meeting Eddie’s terrified gaze. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I hate not being able to hold your hand.” _Not being able to kiss you, or hold you. Touch you at all. It makes me so sad. Did you know that? Did you know you make me sad without meaning to?_

“You hold my hand all the time,” Eddie says, and he intertwines their fingers as if to prove a point. Part of Richie wants to pull away, but he lets his hand be held, for his chest is heaving and he doesn’t know what to do or think. At the same time Eddie is comforting, Eddie is also causing Richie anxiety. How is that possible? For Eddie to be both the solution and the problem?

“That’s not what I mean,” Richie whispers sadly. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Rich,” is all Eddie can say.

“It’s fine,” Richie says, though it isn’t, though he hates being a secret, and thinks the two of them are strong enough to take on the world. “Just hold me.”

 

 

 

_We go on hurting each other_  
_We go on hurting each other_  
_Making each other cry_  
_Hurting each other_  
_Without ever knowing why_

  

**Author's Note:**

> been having such bad writer's block so i did this rlly quick thing as a warmup. sorry the ending is kinda sucky i just wanted to write this so i dont get out of practice lol  
> it's inspired by hurting each other - carpenters  
> thanks for reading! leave ur thoughts if u feel so inclined! 8)


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